The Hatake Legacy
by Ann Cantell
Summary: Reincarnation wasn't a path I'd excluded as an after death possibility. But being reborn in another world. A fictional one at that was definitely one I had. Living again was nice. Living as the daughter of a famous shinobi though was terrifying. OC/SI/Self-Insert.
1. 0

0

I'd loved my mother. No, I still loved my mother. I don't think I'd ever stop to be truthful. It was easy not to blame her for my death. She may have been driving the car, but it hadn't been her fault someone suddenly pulled out in front of us.

One moment I'd been talking to her excitedly about study abroad for my upcoming semester. The next I was watching her face go pale and her arm shoot out to push against my chest. I looked out the front window instantly recognizing my mother's reaction to a sudden traffic change. She'd done it a hundred times before when someone did something reckless that startled her or when she believed for a split second we would crash. We never had.

The one hundred and first time I looked up and saw a truck pulling out of a driveway in front of us. There was no near miss this time. My mother's brakes did not stop us in time. I didn't have time to be afraid. I was too startled. The last sensation I felt in the world was my mother's hand pressing protectively against my chest as I jerked forward to hit the dashboard.

At least I died knowing I was loved. That's something I guess.

. . .

I'd always kind of been terrified of death. Which statistically speaking isn't a surprise. The only thing the average person fears more than death is public speaking. I suppose that says something about us a species. We're more afraid of the rejection of those around us from saying something wrong than we are from our very mysterious end. Personally I'd always held a healthy fear of both, but death that was something I'd feared far longer.

I probably thought of it far more than a normal child should. I'd always been a bit of a day dreamer and one who became fixated on different subjects until they ran their course of curiosity. Death was one I always returned to.

I remember being fairly young when I first realized I was going to die one day. I'd been in elementary school, but it was a vague sort of time were the years blended a bit. I remembered that night perfectly though. I hall light had been on and my bedroom door was open so it cast an orange glow on the corners of my beige room. I couldn't sleep so I was watching the shadows quietly not really thinking, but still there. I was just getting into that state in between sleep and awake when my mind suddenly informed I would one day die.

In my defense this wasn't a thought that came out of nowhere. Several of my distant relatives had died over the course of that year. The "Greats" I hadn't really known but whose funeral I attend anyway. So death had been on my mind lately.

Realizing I was going to die one day terrified me. One day I would cease to exist. I would be nothing. I would never see my mother smile again. I would never play with my siblings again. I would never read a book again. I would never do anything.

I felt breathless with terror. I knew that children died. I'd seen horror movies and the news. I'd read books. I'd seen the graves in the family graveyards that weren't much older than me. That meant I could die. That meant there was honestly no guarantee I would be alive tomorrow.

It was a pretty heavy realization for any child, but I'd always been a little to anxious and fearful. I'd always been a bit of a coward. So a little shaky I'd gone and woken up my mother. I hadn't been able to verbalize what I was feeling, but I told her one thing.

"I'm scared."

She took my hand and lead me back to my room. She brushed her hands through my hair as she settled me back in bed and sat on the floor beside me.

"I won't leave. Don't be afraid."

Looking at my mother and her big brown cloud of hair and hearing her quiet voice and feeling her hands on my hair I settled. I was going to die, but I had a Mom. And Moms scared away everything. Even death. I looked at my mother's face for what felt like hours that night and slowly relaxed into sleep.

My fear never went away, but I settled and never felt the overwhelming terror I had that night again. Moms were great like that.

. . .

When taking in my fear of death I accepted it with a surprising calm. Truthfully I suppose that wasn't too much of a surprise. More often than not I had two reactions when faced with my fears. Blinding terror that made me freeze up or a sudden amount of "Truly Do Not Give A Single Fuck" that liked to appear at random intervals. Once I had gotten through something though I was usually able to handle it calmly the next time. My fear worked as a large explosion followed by an amount of laid back acceptance that grew with each encounter. Death was greeted with the second one. At least until I realized that this meant I had some awareness, which was probably the greatest thing that ever happened to me. That meant death wasn't complete nothingness like I'd always feared and just as wonderful that meant I hadn't went to a place of punishment.

I existed in a void. It reminded me of the moment when you're waking up in bed and aware you're sleeping. You just existed in a soft place of relaxation and warmth without any real thoughts or worries. That's what this void felt like to me.

It lasted for eons. For millennia. Centuries. Minutes. Seconds.

Time wasn't really distinguishable.

When I woke up it was with the terror that had been absent from my death was definitely present for the first moments of my new life.

. . .

I couldn't really remember much about my birth past the terror of it. It was a mixture of sensations. Pressure. Wet. Cold. Dry. Warm. Soft. Safe. I think I was held by my new mother, briefly anyway. There is a fuzzy sort of softness in my early memories that was wrapped in a feeling of safety and familiarity. Later I learned that it was common for newborns in this world to recognize and identify their mother's chakra during this first bonding touch. It had been what was keeping them alive and it was especially important for shinobi children to be introduced to due to the effect it had on future development.

I just remember being taken from those arms so abruptly that it made something inside me hurt.

I never did recover that feeling of utter safety during the first hour of my second life. At least not for a good while. I was taken away from this woman who would have been my second mother and placed in a soft, bright room all alone. I never got the chance to see her face and I never would see it alive.

I wouldn't learn for several months that my birth had been carefully planned and engineered. I wasn't just an infant.

I was a bargaining chip.


	2. 1

1

I was always terribly interested in the development of children, both biologically and emotionally. My mother, a nurse, grew used to me asking her questions about infants and mine and my siblings own development. She'd answer them the best she could, looking a bit amused the entire time. My grandmother was a bit more concerned and when she found me reading _What To Expect When You're Expecting_ and _Caring For Your Baby and Young Child_ she'd given me a stern talking to about waiting to have children. My family was determined that my siblings and I would be the first to go to college and finish it. Being a mother in high school, or even _middle school_ , would ruin or at least make that dream incredibly difficult. Eventually though they realized these books were much like the books I had on symbolism or the Tudor family. One of my many interests, or _research projects_ as I called them, that I simply wanted to know about for the sake of knowing.

So here's one interesting fact I remember about the development of infants.

Babies are born with peripheral vision, but have to develop the ability to focus on a point in the center of their field of sight.

In the lucid moments of my first month in my second life the inability to focus on what was in front of me made me panic a bit. I wasn't able to process these emotions at this stage. This lead to quite a few crying fits that appeared, to my caretakers at least, to come out of nowhere. On my part I was scared and couldn't understand what was going on. I had my memories, but I couldn't completely process them. I had the emotions of an infant contrasting with the mind of a freshly turned twenty year old and I was honestly a mixture of the two.

So for a good portion of my time I was content with being safe and well feed. I slept quite a bit and tired easily. But the second I became aware of how I was supposed to be I grew confused and terrified and this triggered another loud screaming fit.

When I began to be able to concentrate on what was right in front of me it relaxed me. I didn't mind that I couldn't focus past a certain point. That was nothing new. I'd been nearsighted since fifth grade and it was extremely comforting to begin to feel like myself again. Though I still couldn't fully process what I was or what exactly was going on.

With my new found abilities to see and my increasing ability to focus I began to take in the world around me.

I lived in a nest of softness that I only sometimes recognized as a cradle. My needs were met quickly and efficiently, not leaving much room to cry for neglect. Despite this the care I received seem strictly professional without the soft affection or added attention parents paid their newborns. I knew this wasn't right, though I didn't know why and I quickly began to do everything in my power to get any trace of affection and touch from my caretakers.

It took me awhile to realize that they did not all disappear the moment they were out of my sight. My world solely focused on what I could see. It caused me almost as much panic as my sight. The feeling of being alone in my soft, bright world. Once I was able to realize that they came back I relaxed some. I still did not enjoy having them out of my sight though and cried for them.

Eventually though they stopped indulging me, leaving me to cry myself sick sometimes. The brief touches I craved lessened and I grew despondent. When I stopped crying though they returned.

It was a lesson I wouldn't soon forget. Even so early. They were not there to give love. They were there to keep me alive.

. . .

I had three permanent caretakers, though on certain days I would get some who would never return.

The first of my watchers was an older woman. She was not an old woman though. I'd estimate she was in her early thirties, but her cold eyes and clinical manner made her seem older. She had stress lines surrounding her amber eyes and had grey streaking her red hair. I loved her hair. The color always caught my attention and I would watch it for hours. On rare days she was in an inexplicable good mood she would even let it fall over her shoulder into my greedy hands. My grip wasn't fully developed, but the feel of the soft locks tickling my open palms was comforting. She was there more often than not, usually with the other two switching off on watching me. In some part of my mind that was working on a more adult level I recognized that she was the one in charge of the other two. Most of the time though I just knew she was the one I saw on a daily basis and even with her withheld affection she became a familiar rock in my confusion.

My second watcher was also a woman. A bit younger than the red-head though. Unlike the cold facade the older woman put on my younger watcher constantly smiled. Occasionally she would even bay talk me. She had short blonde hair and skin that was much fairer than the redhead. Despite her seeming cheer if anything she cared less than the redhead. While smiling her eyes looked through me. She would often ignore me while caring on her duties and she felt even colder than the redhead's aloof face. I think she might have hated me, though for what I didn't understand. What I did recognize was the way she sometimes held me a little too tightly to me comfortable and the way that when her smile would drop her face would grow hard. I was a little scared of her and I was relieved by the fact that not once did the redhead leave me with her unsupervised.

My last caretaker was my favorite. He was somewhere in age between the redhead and the blonde. He was the only one who seemed to have genuine flashes of affection for me, though the redhead was always quick to scold him out of it. I put an effort into pleasing him the best ways I could, giving him my best imitation of a smile and trying to be quiet for him. He was the one who would touch me the most, casually picking me up and stroking my head gently when he held me. He had thick brown hair with a fringe that fell in his face and dark, black eyes. His hands were always warm and I registered the fact that sometimes they seemed to get warmer than others. Usually when I began to fuss the warmth would appear and I would feel myself relax without explanation.

His was the only name I tried to learn, though I couldn't completely understand why it was important. Unfortunately I never could catch it. The blonde called him "Senpai", a word that set off alarms in my brain that I didn't fully understand. I still hadn't caught up with my mind and I forgot a lot, not being able to understand it yet. The redhead didn't speak other than to give him orders and occasional scold. She never did break him of his random affections, but she did manage to create some distance. I resented her for that. As much as a two month old could. Well that and her refusal to call him by name.

I still would chose her over the blonde any day.

I spent that second month under their care watching and listening. Registering what I could without much comprehension. Only later when looking back on the blurry memories of this beginning would I realize how unusual it was I learned as much as I did. I'd always had a frankly shitty memory, but in my new life I'd apparently improved in that area and recalled my three caretakers, my white cradle and bright room, and the knowledge that I wasn't meant to be loved.

. . .

I was in my third month when I finally remembered and became aware. It was a rare day with my red haired caretaker watching me on her own and me watching her long hair swish back and forth as she walked around the room. I was in a fairly good mood. The redhead had held me against her longer than usual while feeding me and had played with my hands, helping me to open and close them around her fingers, before she'd settled me on a blanket on the ground. Being out of the cradle was a new experience. Plus the blanket I was laying on was smooth and soft. I enjoyed rubbing my face against it as I watched the bright moving strands of hair of the woman in charge of me.

The redhead herself seemed more relaxed than usual. Maybe I was growing on her at this point? But her mood was visibly lighter as she went through the room wiping down each surface with the wet rag she held.

My eyes drifted around the room lazily as she moved.

It was a very plain room. It had blank walls with black lining showing where they separated into parts. I already knew that they slid to the side when someone entered rather than open, which I felt was odd. I didn't know why though. The floor was similarly made up of several separate pieces. When I touched it I could feel the interconnecting pieces of the wood that were still oddly smooth. It wasn't soft like my blanket, but the coolness and texture was pleasant so I wiggled until my arms hung off the blanket allowing my hands to pet the floor and my face to rest against the blanket.

It was pleasant.

The redhead watched my movements carefully as she continued to clean with one hand. This inattention made her not notice her hand drift towards the glass of tea she'd set on one of the scare pieces of furniture in the room. It was falling before she could register the touch. I followed the movement with my eyes.

When it hit the ground it made the largest sound I'd heard in my second life.

I was back with my mother the moment it registered in my ears.

' _...and now we got bad blood. Hey! Hey remember when you tried to write me off? Remember when you thought I'd take a loss. Don't you remember that you thought that I would need ya'? Follow procedure.'_

" _Three months to go." the brunette women beside me says a hint of sadness in her voice._

 _That wouldn't do. I make my voice light and reach over to poke her arm playful._

" _You're gonna miss me." I inform her in a sing song manner. She scoffs and smacks my hand away._

" _Nope." she replies, popping the 'p' deliberately and smiling. "I was just thinking of how much time I had to finalize my party plans."_

 _I don't believe it for a second and lean over. "You're gonna cry."_

 _The woman rolls her eyes, but recognizes the tone in my voice is just joking however true it may be._

" _Not even a little."_

" _Liar." I accuse. "I'll be in England and you'll be here and miss me. You're baby girl's growing up Momma. Soon I'll be done with college and working at a real job and have a house of my own. You'll only see me during holidays. I'll even be talking to the doctor all by myself."_

 _She gives me a smile at that with a hint of mischief. "I suppose that means I'll be renting your room to someone else soon."_

 _I frown, but don't mean it. Her grin grows at the expression._

" _Yes, fifty a week should do it. You're cousin did say she wanted to move closer to town. Do you think she'll be ready by next week?"_

 _I give her an unimpressed look._

" _She'll make your arm hurt." I tell her bluntly. This causes a laugh._

" _No more than you three did!" she teases, eyes drifting back to the road. I'm happy to find that the sadness is no longer visible in her eyes. The car grows quiet and I catch the sound of the music, still playing._

' _...and I don't think we can solve 'em. You made a really deep cut. And baby now we got bad blood!'_

 _I pull back into my seat and relax. Behind me the dogs bark. Our puppy had insisted she come and if she got to go with the people than the older one definitely did. I look back at them amused and Eggsy jumps forward the second she sees me. I reach down to touch her and the puppy gives my hand a soft lick. She is a big licker. My sister says it shows submission. In the back seat Torino gives us both an unimpressed look and settles his head on his paws._

" _I'm thinking of taking the Shakespeare class." I tell my mother as I pet the puppy._

 _My reply is an arm smacking across my chest. I look up._

There's a piercing sound in my ears. It hurt. It's loud and sharp and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. But nothing hurt as much as my insides. My head felt like it was on fire and my heart felt like it was being ripped in two. The floor was no longer cool underneath my palms.

 _I look at my mother first and see her skin pale underneath her tan._

I felt something grab me. Hands I realized startled, but the noise wouldn't stop and the pounding in my head was worse. My throat felt like it was closing up, but I could still breathe. I heard another sound, a voice calling out over the loud noise in my ears.

Something's wrong, _I think suddenly. I turn to look out the window. Something had made her 'pull a soccer mom' as my sister put it._

It was a voice I realized. The loud noise was a voice and the person holding me had to be my red haired caretaker. Her voice was the other sound I heard and it had more emotion in it than I'd ever heard. I was shaking now and my face was wet. I was crying.

 _There is an old truck in front of us. It was close. Too close I realize slowly. My mother's hand digs into my chest. I feel the car begin to jerk as she slams the brake._

I was screaming. That was the noise. It wasn't like any of the noises I'd made before. I sounded like I was dying. Maybe I was. I just wanted the pain to stop. I couldn't see through it anymore. I could only hear. My screams and the one word that the redhead called again and again.

"Nao! Nao!"

 _My body moves forward despite my mother's hand. My seat belt does not catch me as my head moves towards the dash. I am going to die._

Another hand suddenly touched me. Warm and familiar. It doesn't stop the pain, it just adds another sensation to it.

' _If you live like that you live with ghosts!'_

It felt like one of my migraines peaking only a thousand times worse.

 _There is pain, but it goes black before I can really feel it._

I'm supposed to be dead. There's too much in my brain and not enough of me to process it. Everything I had is gone. Everything I love is gone. There was an explosion of white behind my eyes and the pain in my head vanished. My crying didn't stop though. My heart hurt. My throat ached.

Why was I alive? All of me that was washed over me and I remembered my death and who I used to be. I was only three months old I couldn't handle it. For the first time in either of my lives I fainted.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This was much more fun to write than I suspected. Our thus far unnamed protagonist isn't having a good time, but I certainly am. Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far! And lots of thanks to the follows and favorites. I usually don't write near as fast as this.

Quick question. Which name for her do you guys like best?

 **Midori,** **Hitomi,** **Kama,** **Botan**

I'll be naming her soon and I can't decide. Tell me what you guys think! She'll get it either in the third chapter or fourth. It'll take that long for _reasons_. Also just curious anyone have guesses to when and where exactly she is?


	3. 2

2

Murasaki never questioned her orders. It was not her place to. She was a weapon to be used as her Master saw fit. Weapons did not have thoughts or feelings. So they did not feel the doubts that led to questioning. At least they were not supposed to. Murasaki knew she was inferior to her fellows. She was one of the few first generation members left. Their training had been flawed. Too many had still retained emotions. Too many had felt something and questioned. Murasaki had been the best of them. But still she knew herself inferior to those who came through the now perfected system. Murasaki tried though and mostly succeeded.

 _She had no name_. Murasaki was granted to her by her Master in order to interact with others. _She had no feelings_. The occasional pangs she was ashamed to admit to having were quickly buried along with the shame she shouldn't be able to feel. _She had no past_. There was nothing before her Master took her and trained her to be his sword, his weapon to protect. _She had no future_. Futures required dreams and tools did not possess those. She did not possess those. _There was only the mission._ And this mission was changing her.

The tool called Murasaki had spent the past twenty-nine years of her life sharpened to cut with deadly accuracy and to be able to blend among strangers so they did not know death passed close to them. Now she was meant to _nurture_ something until it was old enough to begin its own training. Murasaki had done well thus far.

The shinobi she worked with were not her fellow agents and did not suspect her. (She had been among them for fifteen years now why would they?) The boy, Nao, had caused a few issues, treating the child as if it was not a tool they were growing in order to train. He'd become better at distancing himself, but Murasaki made sure to keep an eye on him. Ureshii was a different problem. Instead of feelings of affection, the girl allowed her anger to overrule her judgement with the child. Murasaki could not allow her alone lest she try some scheme to avenge herself on it. If there had been someone else who could be relied upon regularly to care for the child, Murasaki would have chosen them rather than deal with the girl's volatile emotions. Her superiors in the village had no one to spar though forcing her hand.

It had been going as smooth as could be expected in the beginning. The child had been developing at a regular pace, meeting the milestones when it was supposed to. A few had been reached a little early. Which pleased her superiors and her Master. It spoke of the child's future usefulness.

Then without warning the progress had come to a sudden halt when the child had its attack. Nao had not been able to identify what had happened other than the child had symptoms similar to a migraine. He'd been monitoring it ever since, but no matter how many scans or how many times he attempted to heal her nothing worked. Because nothing appeared to be physically wrong. Despite this the child had been practically catatonic for weeks. Nothing could draw it out. It barely moved, though it thankfully ate.

There were orders passed down that if the child did not start to recover within two months it was to be disposed of and they were to attempt try again. It was these orders that gave Murasaki trouble. Her Master had told her to go ahead with them if it occurred and she'd realized that she had been _disappointed_. Murasaki did not want to follow the orders to dispose of the child. She had wanted her Master to counter her orders and perhaps take control of the child early so that it may continue to live.

This was troubling.

Murasaki did not feel love. That was impossible, even the emotions she did feel were smothered and weak. Love, she had been told, was overwhelming and could even cause someone to disobey orders. Murasaki would fulfill her orders to dispose of the child when it became necessary. It was just she did not want to have to. For whatever reason, Murasaki _hoped_ the child would live. It was a new feeling and not one she wanted. Both painful and inappropriate.

She could not stop it though and began to pay more attention to the child trying to make it come out of wherever it had gone. Her coaxing appeared to working, at least somewhat. The child looked at them instead of through them more and responded to touches, leaning into them as it had before.

Still though something about it had changed. If not for the boy, Murasaki wouldn't have been able to identify the strange expressions the child now made.

"It's like she's grieving." the medic-nin told her near the end of the third month, looking as perplexed by the sentiment as Murasaki felt.

"The child's emotions and mental state are not developed enough to experience grief." she'd told the strange, gentle boy calmly. The look he'd given her had resembled what she assumed to be pity.

"That may be Murasaki-san, but she has the same expression I had when my parents died. She looks like she'd lost everything."

Murasaki had frowned at those words. They made no sense. There was nothing to lose. The child had nothing. Nao had quickly moved onto working. Despite his sometimes un-shinobi like gentleness, he was very proficient and usually profesional.

After that Murasaki tried to see as the other had. She couldn't be sure if what she saw was grief. Murasaki had never felt something like that. She did recognize pain though. The expressions linked to the physical kind. Despite being healthy the child sometimes looked to be in pain. The source of it would need to be put aside if the child was to live.

Murasaki decided something must be done to ensure the success of the mission. Even if it meant finding outside assistance.

. . .

I don't actually remember the next month after my "Waking". It wouldn't have been too strange for someone else. You aren't supposed to remember your early months of life. I was in a somewhat unique position though of remembering a least somewhat since my second birth. That month though was a period of blankness for me. I suppose I might have been in shock.

Or maybe it was a numbing grief.

Or my mind fixing itself to fit in two different versions of myself.

Probably all three.

I ate, slept, and moved through this time. But there was no color, no sound, just a numbing emptiness. When I started to come out of it, started to look around myself again I found things had changed. The redhead kept trying to coax me into moving or doing anything. She was frowning nowadays. Her showing emotion would have been amusing if life hadn't been so very wrong. She seemed somehow more invested in me than before. Actually touching me when it wasn't required and speaking to me in an emotionless, serious voice. My young favorite walked around with a wrinkle in between his eyes and more and more his hands would get that extra warmth whenever he held me. His name was Nao. I'd discovered it due to the strained conversations he was having with my other caretakers. The blonde remained much the same. In fact her smiles seemed brighter. Like she'd received gift she didn't expect to.

My main three caretakers kept having long conversations I was sure revolved around me, though I never heard them say my name. If I even had one. It was hard to figure that out myself as I couldn't understand them.

I had discovered one thing though, the reason that "senpai" had stood out to me. I'd heard it from more animes than I could count. For whatever reason it seemed that I had reborn in some place where Japanese was spoken. I was assuming it was the future. At first I'd assumed it was the past due to the older style of things around me, but then I'd seen the electricity and the odd mix of newly made older styled tools and modern conveniences. Which led me to assume that maybe I was just somewhere with a more traditional lifestyle until I saw a calendar that said it was the year 58.

My best guess was everything had gone Apocalyptic and the survivors had carved out a world that was a mix of old and new. It was a bit of a crazy theory, but it seemed like it made as much sense as a second life did. Wondering exactly which Apocalypse had occurred kept me busy during my bored moments and distracted me from the dual hurt of losing my last life and the coldness of my present one. I just wished I could understand what was going on.

My emotions weren't helping. As much as I was a twenty year old I was just as much an infant. I now knew what love felt like and I wanted it desperately. I missed my family and my life and it _hurt_. I would get stuck in thoughts of them and when I came out it seemed as if hours had passed. I wanted something, someone to cling to.

I didn't cry. I never liked to cry in my last life and despite my harder to control emotions I reacted similarly. I was prone to letting things build and build until a small thing set me off and into tears. I'd get it all out and then I'd feel lighter and move on. Here though I never felt safe enough to let my emotions out.

To make it worse I was bored, which should have been the least of my problems. But honestly there was a reason sticking someone in a small enclosed space with nothing to stimulate their minds was considered a form of punishment and torture. It grated on my already fraying nerves.

The day things changed was on a day with my redhead caretaker only. It was the same day I realized what had really happened to me and realized where I really was.

It was the day the redhead brought the kunoichi.

. . .

Hayai had known Yotsuki Murasaki since the day she'd arrived in their village all young and freshly married. Even then the girl had been odd. Hayai would never say Murasaki was normal despite what others may say. She put on a good show, smiling and getting by, charming her husband and the other civies. Even Hayai's fellow shinobi were fooled by the act. As her best, and probably only friend, Hayai felt entitled to make the assessment that all was not as it appeared.

There were a lot of things that could drive a pretty, young civilian girl into marrying a passing shinobi, especially one as well off as Yotsuki Hidoi. So Hayai had never questioned Murasaki on what had driven her to seduce the man. Two wars and her own traumas made her well aware of how little one would want even those closest to them prying into their pasts. Instead the moment she recognized something was off behind her perfect manners and pretty smiles Hayai had set herself on the course of befriending the girl.

What she found was even worse than she suspected. Murasaki was cold under her cover, calculating, and almost completely unfeeling. She didn't even seem to be able to truly comprehend the feelings of others even if she would use them in her best interests.

She was a bit of a psychopath.

But a harmless one. After the initial assessment Hayai had kept a careful eye on her to make sure she wasn't a threat to the village. Murasaki was as Hayai discovered a deeply neurologically different civilian, but one who was more interested in her own survival and comfort than damaging the village she now resided in. Sure there was a possibility that she could take advantage of her position as wife to a clan member, but Hidoi wasn't very high ranking and in the grand scheme of things unimportant.

So, Hayai had left well enough alone, but hadn't been able to abandon her interest in the girl. She'd met plenty of shinobi with similar mindsets and honestly Hayai was probably a bit different herself. Besides it was always funny seeing Murasaki break her cover and try to understand feelings and such. She got this adorably perplexed frown that Hayai enjoyed more than she probably should.

Murasaki was wearing that same frown when she'd returned from her almost four month long visit to her family only to request Hayai accompany her back. Hayai wasn't an idiot. She knew Murasaki was lying, but she was intrigued. Murasaki looked almost worried. An emotion Hayai wasn't used to seeing on her friend's face. Besides she would never deny her adorable friend anything when her actually requesting something was so rare.

A child though was not what she expected.

Hayai couldn't help but grin at the easy way Murasaki held the baby, despite how clearly uneasy her friend was.

"I didn't know you'd reproduced." Hayai teased, though it was obvious that the baby was not her friend's.

The child's skin was incredibly fair, while Murasaki's was only a few shades lighter than Hayai's own dark brown color. It had messy silver hair that was completely unlike Murasaki's dark red coloring. Bright green eyes looked up at Hayai from her friend's arms while Murasaki's light brown looked down at the child with a frustrated look that made Hayai want to laugh. Emotions looked _good_ on Murasaki. The only this child was her friend's was if it took its entire appearance from its father.

Murasaki responded with an emotionless tone she only used when relaxed, not bothering with her friendly mask. "The child is not mine. It has been assigned to me."

"Assigned?" Hayai asked and waggled her brow at her friend. "Assigned sounds suspiciously like a mission Saki-chan. Civilians don't get missions."

Murasaki gave her a careful assessing look that Hayai greeted with a smile.

"I believe the Shinobigashira spoke to you before he departed to Konoha."

 _Interesting_.

"You mean before he fucked up and got himself killed in Konoha." Hayai said dryly, but quickly realized what Murasaki meant and her grin widened. "Oh, Saki-chan of all people to be involved in an intrigue. _You_ were the last on my list!"

Murasaki ignored the comment and kept going. "I know he invited you to join. He made sure to address my husband and I on the matter, hoping I would be able to persuade you. You have not yet told anyone else of the mechanics of our group and I believe I could trust you with this information."

The redhead took a slight pause and spoke again. "This child is one of the other plans the Shinobigashira had made if the Hyuga was not able to be acquired. It has been manufactured with the genetics of a superior shinobi from a well known line and is to be raised in the utmost secrecy for the good of the village. I was trusted with its care along with a few others. Recently though there have been some _difficulties_ and I felt forced to seek advice elsewhere. As you have had several children in your care I believed you the best to approach. I also know you would not betray my trust."

"No, Saki-chan, you I would never betray."

Hayai assured her speaking the words softly and feeling a bit of wonder at the obvious belief in her friend's face. Murasaki did not often bother with direct lies to Hayai and she spoke that with the conviction of it being an absolute truth. The fact that Murasaki realized the strange devotion that Hayai felt for her was both worrying and oddly invigorating. She would think on that later.

For now she had something more interesting to consider. It was well-known that the Shinobigashira had been chafing under the rule of their Kage for years. The Shinobigashira had been obedient, or at least gave the illusion of obedience under the Sandaime, but when he'd chosen his son as his successor over the Shishigashira the relationship had soured. It hadn't helped that the son was seven years his junior and had never gotten on with him. The Shinobigashira for all the respect his position entitled him and the strength he possessed had always been an arrogant braggart who reached beyond his capabilities.

When he'd approached Hayai about joining his coup against the Yondaime she had only just resisted laughing in his face. She'd been fully prepared to let the coup run its course and laugh if as they burned. On the off chance they had succeeded she'd been interested in seeing exactly how long it would take the arrogant man to doom them all.

With Murasaki involved though she wasn't able to just watch it run its course.

Well for now she'd help out Murasaki, but Hayai would have to start making plans for them to run when this inevitably failed. Being a missing-nin would be fun though. Especially with Murasaki there to entertain her.

"So what's wrong then?" Hayai asked cheerfully as she mentally ran through the closest places she could start to hide supplies in.

Murasaki went instantly into her 'report mode', becoming more professional than most chunin in the village.

"The child was developing normally until its third month during which it had an attack. It began to shriek in pain and quickly became unconscious. Since then it has not responded well and has appeared to be in an almost catatonic state at times. It does not move and does not react to stimulus."

Hayai considered the child thoughtfully, noting how despite Murasaki's claims it seemed pretty focused right now, staring at Hayai with huge green eyes. Hayai leaned closer to see what it would do and found its eyes quickly focused on her headband, fingers twitching and hand clenching and relaxing. Hayai untied the cloth securing it and placed it in the hands of the child. It startled, but after staring at her a little longer focused on the foreign object it held. Its small hands carefully inspected it, tracing the etching on the metal.

Hayai looked away to begin assessing the room. Small, but perfect for a child. Plain and empty of almost all furniture beyond the child's bed, a dresser and table, and a blanket folded neatly on top. The spartan ness of it reminded her of her brief stint in ANBU. No color, no attachments, no humanity.

"No toys?" she asked already knowing the answer.

Murasaki frowned. "The orders were to not treat it as a child, but instead as a weapon. Toys are for children not tools."

Hayai nodded and looked back down at the child who was still gripping the headband.

"Well there's your problem Saki-chan, even baby's get bored. You have to stimulate them like me and you. Talk to it, read to it, give it some games. It will help distract it. Right now this isn't giving its little brain anything to focus on. You need to start introducing it to new things."

Murasaki looked down at the child considering, obviously noting the way it was responding to the new toy.

"Also is it a girl or boy?"

"Female." she responded easily.

"Then call her, a her." Hayai told her cheerfully. "Even if she's getting trained to be a good little weapon she needs to form some connections. A tool with no loyalty isn't very useful."

Just look at her. Hayai would happily burn down her village if she was ever bored enough.

"Distancing yourself can be done when she's old enough to realize what she is."

Murasaki nodded and Hayai grinned at the expression on her face. Thoughtful and determined. Looking more like she was planning a war strategy than childcare.

For a moment Hayai considered whether or not to take the child with them when they fled if it was able to make Murasaki emote so much. She decided against it almost instantly. Whatever her eye color maybe, Hayai would be an idiot not to recognize the distinct messy silver hair of the Hatake clan. Especially considering how fascinated the Shinobigashira had always been with the Copy-Cat's strong lightning affinity and sharingan. The girl would probably only get more recognizable as it grew. If Hayai was going to have to flee her village because of a failed coup while dragging Murasaki with her, she did not needed the added pressure of Konoha and Sharingan no Kakashi's wrath on them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I became very fond of Murasaki and Hayai while writing this and I kind of want to write a side story focusing on the development of their friendship.

 _Shinobigashira:_ Head Ninja. It's a unique rank. The databook mention he was arrogant and didn't like to take orders so I figured it wouldn't be out of line for him to be planning his own coup which would lead to destabilization which a certain eye thief would approve of.

I've almost settled on a name, but remember:

 **Midori, Hitomi, Botan, or Kama**

Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs! All ya'll make me happy


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